Free Riven (The Arinthian Line Book 2) by Sever Bronny

Leyans, each one different in clothing and skin color. Four were men, five women. All were hairless, metallic-skinned, gray-eyed instead of black, and wrinkled as if having spent years soaking in water.
    Oba Sassone lowered the prince to the ground. When Augum spotted the large burn mark on his doublet, his heart skipped a beat. Neither Bridget, Leera, Mya, nor his great-grandmother would meet his eyes. What had he done? Was the prince … he dare not finish the thought.
    Thomas bowed to the nine millennials. “Wise elders—greetings. If I may begin by asking for the healing of this boy.”
    “Ancient vow Thomas Stone and Oba Sassone break,” an old woman wearing deer hide said. She had a wild accent, her skin was the color of wood, and antlers sprouted from her head. “Life for uninvited childling mortal Thomas Stone now asks. Elders—life do we give this boy?” She turned to the others, each of them quietly returning her gaze, as if speaking in thoughts. She nodded, shuffled to the stricken prince, and held out a withered hand that began glowing. Augum watched the wound shrink until disappearing altogether. The glow faded away and her hand withdrew, only to make a final quick gesture. Sydo jolted to life, coughing and gasping for air, hair frazzled.
    Augum quickly stepped forward and offered a hand. “I … I’m so sorry …” he managed to say. He felt terrible, like one of the bullies he thought he had smote.
    Sydo refused his hand and stood up on his own, an obstinate look on his face, eyes narrow. He said nothing.
    “Augum, I’m sorry too,” Leera said as the antlered millennial moved back to the others, her back as crooked as a scythe. “I—I don’t know what I was saying … I don’t know what happened out there …”
    “Yes, overcome by song was Oba.” Oba bowed his hairless head. “Forgiveness Oba asks. Much to learn he still has.”
    “We all have much to learn, Oba Sassone,” Thomas replied.
    Mrs. Stone cleared her throat. “I apologize for my words, Great-grandson. I did not mean what I said. It appears I, too, was overcome by the song.”
    Augum gave his great-grandmother a heartfelt look. He wanted to hug her but held back—she wasn’t exactly the hugging type.
    “Change has quickened in our land,” an elder Leyan man said with dark citron skin. He wore a tattered ochre shawl painted with leaves and held a simple wooden staff. “We break our Vow of Isolation for mortals entering with a scion. Two kin break this vow to train the mortals, who seek council. We will hold this council on behalf of one Thomas Stone, who shall reap penance.”
    Augum’s stomach tightened. What did they mean by “penance”?
    Mrs. Stone stepped forward and bowed. “Great elders, forgive our intrusion and our mortal follies. We come by necessity. We come with questions.”
    “Speak your piece,” the antlered woman said.
    “I am grateful. My first question is of the wastes. Why has the Song become so deadly?”
    “Never has one held more than two before,” replied a withered old man in sealskin, bent so far forward he was shorter than Leera. His skin was as white as snow, a bone stuck through his nose, and there was a thick black line tattooed down the middle of his bald head.
    “The elder refers to the scions—” Mrs. Stone said.
    “That is so.”
    “Then Lividius has at least three now.”
    Augum exchanged looks with Bridget and Leera. That’s not good.
    “Do the scions have power over Ley?” Mrs. Stone continued after a thoughtful pause.
    The snow-skinned man looked to his right. “I petition to hear from the oldest among us, one who has not spoken in many a year. Krakatos the Ancient, will you break your silence to speak on the subject at hand?”
    All eyes turned to an extremely wrinkled man with dark bronze skin wearing a simple white loincloth. Perched on his bulbous nose were square spectacles with pink lenses. The man stared at Mrs. Stone for so long Augum thought he had chosen to